Hidden Heart
by SkiaShadows
Summary: Meggie has been depressed for years… and Mo can’t figure out what happened to his once life-loving daughter. She’s been filling notebooks full of stories about one certain Inkheart character… and she hasn’t read a single book since He left.


"**Hidden Heart" **

**Inkheart **

**Meggie / Dustfinger**

**Summary: **Meggie has been depressed for years… and Mo can't figure out what happened to his once life-loving daughter. She's been filling notebooks full of stories about one certain Inkheart character… and she hasn't read a single book since He left.

**A/N: **This story takes place more after movie-Inkheart then book-Inkheart. Dustfinger was sent back to the book, and Meggie continued to live with her father and mother, though in this story her mother is still mute. This is years later, when Meggie is 18 years old.

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Misery. Pain.

Each word she wrote sent small knives into her heart, and her hand trembled even as she forced her mind to create, to imagine. Where was He? What was He doing? No matter what, He had to be happy. Always happy without her.

The words came faster and faster, Meggie's pen barely leaving the page as the words, written in a beautiful cursive so different from her handwriting years before, scrawled across each line. Tears filled her brilliant eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

"Meg?"

Meggie blinked rapidly, ridding herself of the tears, and yanked her pen away, slamming the notebook shut.

"Yes, Mo?"

"Meg, what are you doing? I thought I told you not to do this anymore!"

Mo hurried forward, reaching for the notebook on the ground, but Meggie snatched it up and jumped to her feet.

"God, Mo, it's homework!"

"Homework?" Mo glanced at her face. "Yeah, sure. I've seen you cry over homework millions of times."

Meggie sighed and glanced away, blinking harder. "Honestly, Mo, nothing's going to happen. What I write doesn't come true… I've never tried to read this out loud."

Mo shook his head. "But there's always a risk! Neither of us knows the full extent of what we can do. Making up stories is _dangerous_ for Silver Tongues, Meg."

She shrugged, but didn't offer any further protest.

Mo frowned hard at his daughter. She had grown beautifully over the last 6 yeasr, and now stood before him as a woman, no longer a child. She looked so vulnerable though, so heartbroken, that it was easy for him to see her as the child she had once been. Currently, Meggie was wearing shorts and a sweater that fell to her knees and past her fingertips, her arms wrapped around her protectively. Her waterfall of blonde hair fell over pained, weary blue eyes, and she seemed pale, fragile.

His daughter had changed so much in the years since their adventures at Capricorn's castle that he no longer thought of her as the same person. There was old Meggie, the bright, cheerful, loving girl. And then there was Meg. Still incredibly intelligent, kind and patient, but broken inside.

Meg hadn't opened a book since then either. As much as she had loved to read once, she had refused to open a single fiction novel since. The only things she read now were textbooks, books packed full of information, but with no spirit, no life. Kind of like Meg herself.

So why did he care so much if she wrote? Most parents would consider it an outlet for all the creative energy she was keeping locked inside of her. But as much joy as writing brought Meg, he could tell that it also brought her pain. And he hated anything that made his daughter hurt. Besides, all she had written before were stories of her mother's exploits before they had found her. But now that Resa was back, what on earth was she writing about? He hadn't yet managed to look inside those notebooks, she had hidden them well and guarded them as if they were made of gold.

"Did you want something, Mo?" Meggie asked.

"Dinner." He said with a sigh. "Your mother said to tell you that dinner will be ready in an hour."

"Perfect." Meggie smiled, though it seemed forced, and put the notebook in the bag resting beside her, then slung it over her shoulders. "Enough time for me to find a new book from the library."

Meggie left the room and wandered down the hall. After a brief hesitation, Mo slunk out and made his way to the Library as well.

***************

Margaret Folchart moved along the Non-Fiction shelves of her family's library, feeling an enormous sense of peace fall over her. She was safe here, among the pages of these simple, emotionless books. Here was only hard, cold fact. What was written here brought her only knowledge, not pain.

Suddenly, she frowned. Where was her copy of _A Theory of Justice_? Frowning, she scanned the shelf again, then walked along each shelf to make sure it hadn't gotten misplaced. She stopped outside the fiction section. Had someone put it away in there?

For a long moment, she hesitated. But then she heard something. A faint, distant whisper…

_The only thing that permits us to acquiesce in an erroneous theory is the lack of a better one…_

That was her book! Someone _had _placed it in the fiction section! With a soft groan, Meggie took a reluctant step forward. Instantly, her ears were assailed.

_Frightened? Child, you're talking to a man who's laughed in the face of death, sneered at doom, and chuckled at catastrophe... I was petrified. _

_My life is a perfect graveyard of buried hopes. That's a sentence I read once and I say it over to comfort myself in these times that try the soul. _

_"Oh my ears and whiskers, how late it's getting!" _

_'I have no wish to take life, not even human life,' repeated Boxer, and his eyes were full of tears._

Scowling to herself, Meggie tried not to be tempted by the books that cried out to her. She was looking for one book in particular, and she intended on finding it. After six years, she would not go back to reading those stories. The fantasies. She remembered once when their words had brought her comfort. But now, she knew better. They only brought chaos.

_Analogously, an injustice is tolerable only when it is necessary to avoid an even greater injustice._

That was it again! She ran towards the shelf and pulled the book out, and as she did, something else fell out onto the floor.

_And in the darkened palace of the Black Prince, entertainers that ranged from jugglers to fire eaters to acrobats moved across the brightly tiled floor. It between these twisting entertainers, the dancers swirled, their bright colours and simple grace dazzling… _

"No!"

Meg backed away from the copy of _Inkheart _that now lay on the carpeted library floor. Tears filled her eyes and began to pour down her cheeks.

"_No_."

Wheeling on her heel, Meg fled from the library.

And stepping out of the shadows of the hallway, Mo frowned after his daughter and turned to look at the book on the floor.

********************************************************

Mo entered the library and walked between the shelves. It was easy for him to ignore the books… their cries were only distant whispers to him and he accepted, not rejected, their stories. He bent down and picked up _Inkheart, _his mind whirling.

All the changes in Meggie had started occurring after the events with Capricorn. Mo had assumed she was traumatized from what had happened. But something else had happened not long after.

Dustfinger had returned to the book.

The only other time Meggie had ever written those stories of her was when her mother was trapped in _Inkheart. _Resa was free, but Dustfinger wasn't.

It was Dustfinger.

Mo's mind focused on one though and one thought only: Dustfinger was the cause of his daughter's pain.

Without thinking, Mo swung around, crossed to the door, slammed it shut, and locked it. Then he moved back to the centre of the room.

He pulled the book open and began to read, at first, only with his mind.

His eyes scanned the pages, pulling in bits of information. The story had _changed_. Mo blinked in shock as he read the words again and again, seeing the change in Dustfinger's story. Before, Dustfinger had married Roxanne, and lived happily ever after.

Not anymore.

Dustfinger returned from a fight against Capricorn and though Capricorn and Basta were defeated, Dustfinger's wife had married a new man, and his children no longer wanted anything to do with him. He was alone, though still working as a Fire Eater for the Black Prince.

Then Mo found one particular section that made his heart jolt.

_That Night, after the festival, Dustfinger returned to his rooms on his own. Always on his own. _

_It hadn't always been that way. Once, Dustfinger had been loved. He had a family to go to every night. But that memory was only a distant pain. Though he missed his children, it was no longer his wife or her betrayal that he thought of in the dead of night, when his loneliness was the most suffocating. _

_It was a girl. A girl that Dustfinger loved very deeply. One that had stood with him in the fight against Capricorn, and had reminded him what kind of man he was. _

_And the last thing he thought before he fell asleep every night was her name. Just her name. _

_Meggie. _

Mo's eyes widened, and furiously, he began to read out loud, though the words were not the words on the page.

_Suddenly, Dustfinger found his eyes flying open again as sleep eluded him. When he opened his eyes, however, he discovered that he was no longer in the simple rooms of the Black Princes' entertainers, but in the vast and grand library of Mortimer Folchart. _

He slammed the book shut, and when he lowered it, he saw Dustfinger, lying flat out on the floor, dressed in ragged clothes. His hair was still long and unruly, and he seemed to have not aged a day since he left the real world for the ink world.

"Mortimer? What…?" Dustfinger started to get back up, but when Mo lurched towards him, Dustfinger sank back slightly.

"What did you do to my daughter?"

Dustfinger swung himself to his feet. "Meggie? I never did anything to Meggie!"

"Then why is she depressed?"

"Depressed?"

"Yes! For the past six years - ever since _you _left. I've tried everything to get her well! Everything! And nothing has worked! She doesn't sleep well, she always looks tired and miserable. She hasn't read a single book since you left, and she spends all her time writing stories - presumably about you!"

"That doesn't make any sense…" Dustfinger muttered.

"I agree!" Mortimer cried, "So tell me what you did to her!"

"Look, Mortimer, before I left, I told Meggie that I loved her."

"You _what_? She was twelve years old!"

"Oh for - Its not like I was trying to force myself on her, Mortimer. I do love Meggie, but it goes far deeper then _that_."

Mortimer should have been surprised. He should have been downright _furious_. But he knew Dustfinger was telling the truth. He knew. Suddenly it all became so clear to him. Everything became so clear.

When they had first met Dustfinger, and the entire time they had been having their wild adventures, he had sensed something was between Dustfinger and his daughter. At first, he thought they disliked each other. After all, Dustfinger hadn't told them where Resa was, he had left Meggie locked in the dungeons and fled for his own life.

_One that had stood with him in the fight against Capricorn, and had reminded him what kind of man he was. _

But Meggie had never given up on Dustfinger. Whatever they felt for each other, it had not been hate. And now he knew what it was. Love. Why hadn't he seen it before? Why hadn't he guessed it when Meggie suddenly became depressed and distant?

"Then why?" He croaked. "Why did you leave?"

Dustfinger looked surprised. "I never said she loved me back, Silver Tongue. She told me that she didn't love me… that she was in love with Farid."

Mortimer blinked. "Farid? She said she was in love with Farid? Dustfinger, that's a lie. She and Farid were never together… Farid left shortly after you did. Not to his book… a different one. I don't remember which. She was never in love with him."

Dustfinger looked dazed, furious and thrilled all at once. Then his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why are you helping me, Mortimer? I'd assumed you'd sooner cut off my head then let me anywhere near your daughter."

Mortimer only smiled and stepped to one side. "Perhaps I'm letting myself believe in the fairy tale ending this time, Dustfinger."

Dustfinger grinned, then turned away from Mortimer and left the library, hurrying down the long hallway.

"Meggie! Meggie!"

He passed room after room, all with their doors open, revealing rooms of no interest to him whatsoever. Finally, however, he found the room with the locked door and pounded on it.

"Meggie!"

The door swung open and revealed Meggie in the doorway, watching him with wide, shadowed eyes.

"_Dustfinger_?"

Ah… his precious Meggie. What had happened to her? She was beautiful, but she looked so fragile. So broken. How could he ever have left her? No matter what she said, no matter who she claimed to love… he should have stayed, at least to look out for her, even if from a far. But now look at the state she was in.

"Meggie…" He reached up a hand and cupped her cheek, staring down into her stunning eyes. "Ah, my Meggie."

Seeming to snap out of her stupor, Meggie pulled away from him. "What are you doing here, Dustfinger? Who read you out of that book?"

"Your father."

"Mo? Why? I don't understand why you're here!"

She pulled even further away and moved to slam the door on him, but Dustfinger stuck his foot in the door and shouldered it open.

"You're not getting rid of me so easily this time, Meg."

She glared at him. "Just go! Don't you understand that I don't want you here! Go back to Inkheart and Roxanne and leave me alone, Dustfinger!"

Dustfinger hesitated, then started at her in disbelief. "You… _That's _why you told me you loved Farid?"

Her eyes widened and she glanced away. "I-I don't know what you're talking about."

Dustfinger slammed the door behind him. "That's exactly it, isn't it? You thought I wanted to return to _Roxanne_, so you made up some story about being in love with someone else???"

"She's your wife!"

"My _wife _was married to another man when I got back! My own daughter didn't even seem to know - or care - who I was! Meggie, I never wanted to return to them, not after I fell in love with you! This is not the first time my wife has betrayed me. When I said I loved you, and wanted to stay with you, I meant it, Meggie!"

Meggie had begun to cry, her whole body trembling as she stared up at the man she loved so much.

"I thought… I was doing what was best for you. I thought that this would make you… happy. I only wanted you to be happy…"

"Meggie…" Dustfinger stepped forward, but Meggie retreated again. "Meggie, only you can make me happy. My wife and I are no longer together, and it's _you _I want to spend the rest of my life with!"

Meggie turned away from him and walked over to her bed. She stopped just short and dropped to the ground, yanking up one of the floorboards and pulling out a slim journal.

"Ever since you left, I've been writing. I've filled dozens of these with stories." Meggie leafed through the thin pages of the notebook, each page coated with scrawling cursive. "Almost all of these stories are about you, leaving a happy life with your wife and daughter. I wanted so badly for you to be happy, so I wrote about it every day, even though it was killing me…"

Meggie started to cry harder, and this time she did not protest when Dustfinger stepped forward and wrapped her tightly in his arms.

"S-Sometimes…" Meggie stammered, shaking so hard that Dustfinger was afraid she might be going into shock, "Sometimes I was selfish. Sometimes I wrote stories about you missing me, about you being… sad without me. I felt guilty, whenever I wrote those stories, but they didn't h-hurt as much."

"Oh, Meggie. I'm so, so sorry." He pressed her tightly to him, trying to sooth her. "Those stories, the ones you felt so guilty about writing, that was my reality Meggie. I felt so terrible for leaving you, for just accepting your word and leaving. And I missed you so much."

"So you… you really love me?" Meggie flushed and looked away, "I mean…do you…"

Dustfinger put his fingers under her chin and lifted her face to his, kissed her deeply.

"Meggie, I love you so much more then words can say. You are my everything… the only thing left that matters to me."

Eyes shimmering with tears, Meggie whispered. "I love you too, Dustfinger. More then I'll ever be able to say."

As Dustfinger leaned into kiss Meggie again, he realized that finally, he had found his way home.

THE END!!!

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